Uzbekistan revisited

The murder of an Uzbek journalist is a stark reminder of the repressive nature of the Karimov regime

On 22 October, journalist Alisher Saipov told friend and colleague Shahida Yakub he thought he was being followed by Uzbek security services. Two days later he was dead, shot as he left his office in Osh, a town situated close to the Uzbek border in neighbouring Kyrgyzstan.

Saipov was the founder and editor of the newspaper Siyosat, or Politics. His was the only Uzbek language newspaper in the region that was openly critical of President Islam Karimov’s autocratic government.

This repressive regime severely restricts the media. A number of foreign news websites have been blocked. Independent journalists, political opponents and human rights activists are routinely harassed, often imprisoned, and even tortured.

"Naturally, Siyosat could not be openly sold in Uzbekistan," explains Yakub, who also represents the Uzbek Initiative group in London. "But we’ve received reports that copies were being smuggled in, across the border.

“Alisher’s writings made him state enemy number one. In a recent programme, Uzbek regional TV accused him of attempting to destabilise Uzbekistan.

“The president is not willing to take any chances ahead of the December elections. He is as determined as ever to root out all opposition and challenge. Alisher knew he was in danger, but was determined to highlight the plight of the Uzbek people. It cost him his life,” says Yakub, who blames the Karimov government for the murder.

President Karimov came to power in what was described by Human Rights Watch (HRW) as a “seriously marred” election. A series of fraudulent elections and referendums have extended his 16-year rule.

He refused to step down when his term expired in January 2007 and will be seeking re-election this December, despite a constitutional clause that forbids the president from serving a third term in office.

“Although Alisher was not directly advocating regime change, he was trying to highlight the pressing need for change,” says Yakub.

“The human rights situation in Uzbekistan is dire and discontent is rife. This was laid out in the open for the world to see during the Andijan killings.”

That was when, in May 2005, government troops opened fire on a gathering in Andijan town square. The president claimed the troops had been responding to “dangerous Islamic militants”. He put the death toll at less than 200.

But human rights groups claim that the gathering consisted of mostly unarmed civilians protesting against the Karimov regime. They estimate up to 1000 people may have been killed.

Up until the massacre, Uzbekistan had been a key ally in the ‘war on terror’. US aid to Uzbekistan shot up post 9/11. America was provided with use of an air base near the southern town of Khanabad.

In 2004, British soldiers travelled to Uzbekistan to train with the Uzbek army. UN and NGO reports documenting human rights abuses in Uzbekistan were largely ignored.

In fact, Uzbekistan is believed to have been one of the destination countries for the US’ extraordinary renditions programme, whereby terrorist suspects are transferred for interrogation to regimes that sanction torture.

But following an international outcry over Andijan, the US called for an independent inquiry into the shootings. The Karimov government refused. It signalled its displeasure by ordering the US to vacate the Uzbek air base.

The EU - which had backed calls for an inquiry - imposed a number of sanctions on Uzbekistan. These included an embargo on arms sales, a freeze on bilateral talks, and a visa ban on 12 Uzbek officials suspected of involvement in the Andijan shootings.

The past year, however, has seen the sanctions progressively eased. The latest reversal came earlier this month, when travel restrictions on eight officials were suspended, “with a view to encouraging the Uzbek authorities to…improve the human rights situation”.

But the move also comes amid fears that the sanctions have simply served to push Uzbekistan closer to Russia and China, and are eroding EU influence in the energy-rich, strategically important region.

An EU spokesman said: “A number of somewhat conflicting objectives have had to be balanced here.

“The thinking is that Uzbekistan has recently made some progress. There have been two rounds of expert level talks on the Andijan events. A human rights dialogue between the EU and Uzbekistan has been established, and the death penalty has been abolished.

“The EU concluded that the best way forward would be to engage with the Uzbek government, rather than isolate it.”

But human rights groups think otherwise. They see “talks” as a poor substitute for an independent inquiry, and claim that Uzbekistan is still one of the most repressive regimes in the region.

Earlier this year, Amnesty International (AI) noted that at least 13 human rights activists were still in prison, despite repeated calls for their release.

It also revealed that Uzbek authorities had refused to impose a moratorium on executions, despite the abolition of the death penalty.

AI concluded that the establishment of the dialogue lacked credibility “if at the same time Uzbek authorities can continue to commit gross violations with impunity”.

Human Rights Watch (HRW) condemned the suspension as a travesty.

Rachel Denber, deputy director of HRW's Europe and Central Asia division, said: “The EU is giving up critical leverage. It is sending out the wrong signal to repressive regimes who will think that the consequences of their brutality will be minimal.

“It is placing economic and geo-strategic concerns over human rights. The EU claims that it will work with Uzbekistan to improve its human rights record, but apart from dialogue, has yet to come up with any concrete strategy.

“If prior elections are anything to go by, then the human rights situation will only deteriorate in coming months.”

Shahida Yakub agrees. “Things can only get worse from here on,” she said. “The murder of a dedicated journalist would suggest that the crackdown on dissent has already begun.”

Vidisha Biswas specialised in literature before deciding to pursue a career in journalism. Her interests include human rights, foreign politics, music and philosophy.
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Why Jeremy Corbyn is a new leader for the New Times

In an inspired election campaign, he confounded his detractors and showed that he was – more than any other leader – in tune with the times.

There have been two great political turning points in postwar Britain. The first was in 1945 with the election of the Attlee government. Driven by a popular wave of determination that peacetime Britain would look very different from the mass unemployment of the 1930s, and built on the foundations of the solidaristic spirit of the war, the Labour government ushered in full employment, the welfare state (including the NHS) and nationalisation of the basic industries, notably coal and the railways. It was a reforming government the like of which Britain had not previously experienced in the first half of the 20th century. The popular support enjoyed by the reforms was such that the ensuing social-democratic consensus was to last until the end of the 1970s, with Tory as well as Labour governments broadly operating within its framework.

During the 1970s, however, opposition to the social-democratic consensus grew steadily, led by the rise of the radical right, which culminated in 1979 in the election of Margaret Thatcher’s first government. In the process, the Thatcherites redefined the political debate, broadening it beyond the rather institutionalised and truncated forms that it had previously taken: they conducted a highly populist campaign that was for individualism and against collectivism; for the market and against the state; for liberty and against trade unionism; for law and order and against crime.

These ideas were dismissed by the left as just an extreme version of the same old Toryism, entirely failing to recognise their novelty and therefore the kind of threat they posed. The 1979 election, followed by Ronald Reagan’s US victory in 1980, began the neoliberal era, which remained hegemonic in Britain, and more widely in the West, for three decades. Tory and Labour governments alike operated within the terms and by the logic of neoliberalism. The only thing new about New Labour was its acquiescence in neoliberalism; even in this sense, it was not new but derivative of Thatcherism.

The financial crisis of 2007-2008 marked the beginning of the end of neoliberalism. Unlike the social-democratic consensus, which was undermined by the ideological challenge posed by Thatcherism, neoliberalism was brought to its knees not by any ideological alternative – such was the hegemonic sway of neoliberalism – but by the biggest financial crisis since 1931. This was the consequence of the fragility of a financial sector left to its own devices as a result of sweeping deregulation, and the corrupt and extreme practices that this encouraged.

The origin of the crisis lay not in the Labour government – complicit though it was in the neoliberal indulgence of the financial sector – but in the deregulation of the banking sector on both sides of the Atlantic in the 1980s. Neoliberalism limped on in the period after 2007-2008 but as real wages stagnated, recovery proved a mirage, and, with the behaviour of the bankers exposed, a deep disillusionment spread across society. During 2015-16, a populist wave of opposition to the establishment engulfed much of Europe and the United States.

Except at the extremes – Greece perhaps being the most notable example – the left was not a beneficiary: on the contrary it, too, was punished by the people in the same manner as the parties of the mainstream right were. The reason was straightforward enough. The left was tarnished with the same brush as the right: almost everywhere social-democratic parties, albeit to varying degrees, had pursued neoliberal policies. Bill Clinton and Tony Blair became – and presented themselves as – leaders of neoliberalism and as enthusiastic advocates of a strategy of hyper-globalisation, which resulted in growing inequality. In this fundamental respect these parties were more or less ­indistinguishable from the right.

***

The first signs of open revolt against New Labour – the representatives and evangelists of neoliberal ideas in the Labour Party – came in the aftermath of the 2015 ­election and the entirely unpredicted and overwhelming victory of Jeremy Corbyn in the leadership election. Something was happening. Yet much of the left, along with the media, summarily dismissed it as a revival of far-left entryism; that these were for the most part no more than a bunch of Trots. There is a powerful, often overwhelming, tendency to see new phenomena in terms of the past. The new and unfamiliar is much more difficult to understand than the old and familiar: it requires serious intellectual effort and an open and inquiring mind. The left is not alone in this syndrome. The right condemned the 2017 Labour Party manifesto as a replica of Labour’s 1983 manifesto. They couldn’t have been more wrong.

That Corbyn had been a veteran of the far left for so long lent credence to the idea that he was merely a retread of a failed past: there was nothing new about him. In a brilliant election campaign, Corbyn not only gave the lie to this but also demonstrated that he, far more than any of the other party leaders, was in tune with the times, the candidate of modernity.

Crises, great turning points, new conjunctures, new forms of consciousness are by definition incubators of the new. That is one of the great sources of their fascination. We can now see the line of linkage between the thousands of young people who gave Corbyn his overwhelming victory in the leadership election in 2015 and the millions of young people who were enthused by his general election campaign in 2017. It is no accident that it was the young rather than the middle-aged or the seniors who were in the vanguard: the young are the bearers and products of the new, they are the lightning conductors of change. Their elders, by contrast, are steeped in old ways of thinking and doing, having lived through and internalised the values and norms of neoliberalism for more than 30 years.

Yet there is another, rather more important aspect to how we identify the new, namely the way we see politics and how politics is conceived. Electoral politics is a highly institutionalised and tribal activity. There have been, as I argued earlier, two great turning points in postwar politics: the social-democratic era ushered in by the 1945 Labour government and the neoliberal era launched by the Tory government in 1979.

The average Tory MP or activist, no doubt, would interpret history primarily in terms of Tory and Labour governments; Labour MPs and activists would do similarly. But this is a superficial reading of politics based on party labels which ignores the deeper forces that shape different eras, generate crises and result in new paradigms.

Alas, most political journalists and columnists are afflicted with the same inability to distinguish the wood (an understanding of the deeper historical forces at work) from the trees (the day-to-day manoeuvring of parties and politicians). In normal times, this may not be so important, because life continues for the most part as before, but at moments of great paradigmatic change it is absolutely critical.

If the political journalists, and indeed the PLP, had understood the deeper forces and profound changes now at work, they would never have failed en masse to rise above the banal and predictable in their assessment of Corbyn. Something deep, indeed, is happening. A historical era – namely, that of neoliberalism – is in its death throes. All the old assumptions can no longer be assumed. We are in new territory: we haven’t been here before. The smart suits long preferred by New Labour wannabes are no longer a symbol of success and ambition but of alienation from, and rejection of, those who have been left behind; who, from being ignored and dismissed, are in the process of moving to the centre of the political stage.

Corbyn, you may recall, was instantly rejected and ridiculed for his sartorial style, and yet we can now see that, with a little smartening, it conveys an authenticity and affinity with the times that made his style of dress more or less immune from criticism during the general election campaign. Yet fashion is only a way to illustrate a much deeper point.

The end of neoliberalism, once so hegemonic, so commanding, is turning Britain on its head. That is why – extraordinary when you think about it – all the attempts by the right to dismiss Corbyn as a far-left extremist failed miserably, even proved counterproductive, because that was not how people saw him, not how they heard him. He was speaking a language and voicing concerns that a broad cross-section of the public could understand and identify with.

***

The reason a large majority of the PLP was opposed to Corbyn, desperate to be rid of him, was because they were still living in the neoliberal era, still slaves to its ideology, still in thrall to its logic. They knew no other way of thinking or political being. They accused Corbyn of being out of time when in fact it was most of the PLP – not to mention the likes of Mandelson and Blair – who were still imprisoned in an earlier historical era. The end of neoliberalism marks the death of New Labour. In contrast, Corbyn is aligned with the world as it is rather than as it was. What a wonderful irony.

Corbyn’s success in the general election requires us to revisit some of the assumptions that have underpinned much political commentary over the past several years. The turmoil in Labour ranks and the ridiculing of Corbyn persuaded many, including on the left, that Labour stood on the edge of the abyss and that the Tories would continue to dominate for long into the future. With Corbyn having seized the political initiative, the Tories are now cast in a new light. With Labour in the process of burying its New Labour legacy and addressing a very new conjuncture, then the end of neoliberalism poses a much more serious challenge to the Tories than it does the Labour Party.

The Cameron/Osborne leadership was still very much of a neoliberal frame of mind, not least in their emphasis on austerity. It would appear that, in the light of the new popular mood, the government will now be forced to abandon austerity. Theresa May, on taking office, talked about a return to One Nation Toryism and the need to help the worst-off, but that has never moved beyond rhetoric: now she is dead in the water.

Meanwhile, the Tories are in fast retreat over Brexit. They held a referendum over the EU for narrowly party reasons which, from a national point of view, was entirely unnecessary. As a result of the Brexit vote, the Cameron leadership was forced to resign and the Brexiteers took de facto command. But now, after the election, the Tories are in headlong retreat from anything like a “hard Brexit”. In short, they have utterly lost control of the political agenda and are being driven by events. Above all, they are frightened of another election from which Corbyn is likely to emerge as leader with a political agenda that will owe nothing to neoliberalism.

Apart from Corbyn’s extraordinary emergence as a leader who understands – and is entirely comfortable with – the imperatives of the new conjuncture and the need for a new political paradigm, the key to Labour’s transformed position in the eyes of the public was its 2017 manifesto, arguably its best and most important since 1945. You may recall that for three decades the dominant themes were marketisation, privatisation, trickle-down economics, the wastefulness and inefficiencies of the state, the incontrovertible case for hyper-globalisation, and bankers and financiers as the New Gods.

Labour’s manifesto offered a very different vision: a fairer society, bearing down on inequality, a more redistributive tax system, the centrality of the social, proper funding of public services, nationalisation of the railways and water industry, and people as the priority rather than business and the City. The title captured the spirit – For the Many Not the Few. Or, to put in another way, After Neoliberalism. The vision is not yet the answer to the latter question, but it represents the beginnings of an answer.

Ever since the late 1970s, Labour has been on the defensive, struggling to deal with a world where the right has been hegemonic. We can now begin to glimpse a different possibility, one in which the left can begin to take ownership – at least in some degree – of a new, post-neoliberal political settlement. But we should not underestimate the enormous problems that lie in wait. The relative economic prospects for the country are far worse than they have been at any time since 1945. As we saw in the Brexit vote, the forces of conservatism, nativism, racism and imperial nostalgia remain hugely powerful. Not only has the country rejected continued membership of the European Union, but, along with the rest of the West, it is far from reconciled with the new world that is in the process of being created before our very eyes, in which the developing world will be paramount and in which China will be the global leader.

Nonetheless, to be able to entertain a sense of optimism about our own country is a novel experience after 30 years of being out in the cold. No wonder so many are feeling energised again.

This article first appeared in the 15 June 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Corbyn: revenge of the rebel

Martin Jacques is the former editor of Marxism Today. 

This article first appeared in the 15 June 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Corbyn: revenge of the rebel

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